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I got the blues… blues… blues… baby.
Got blues blues blues on my mind.
often to dream…
if she will awake…
awake… finds her
dreams are but distant
echoes of ancient memories gone.
Ralph Ivy is in his 70s and he is gesturing still. Still talking, looking and wondering. He is still writing about it and drawing about it. Whatever catches the mood. It is the only way he knows to deal with life. He is an artist and he does what he does.
Object(s) to bring back to life: “Ashtrays! Always available. Waiting for elevator. Sipping coffee. Reading at the library. Leaning back in the bus. I want ashtrays! It’s hard to remain 50’s “hip” and flip a butt aside to light another – when all I get is emptiness and disdainful stares. Oh, well… (Ah, wail…) Life in America.”